I Will Burn You
by Emma the Fish
Summary: [SherlockxMoriarty] ' Jim looked over to Sherlock and thought for a few minutes. What was he feeling? All he knew was when Sherlock kissed him, he got an odd feeling. Like something was fluttering around inside of his stomach. Like moths. Or butterflies. GOD DAMNIT, WHAT WAS THIS FEELING'
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes turned the collar of his coat up like he always did and shoved his hands into the pockets. The rain was an absolute down pour, but Sherlock needed to be alone . . . He needed to think. He wandered through the streets of London, lost in his mind palace, pondering on all that had happened in the previous few days. He was back in London, back with John, and John had - thankfully - forgiven him for faking his own death. John was - at the moment - at home in his apartment with his fiancé, Mary.

With a sigh, Sherlock wandered passed an alleyway where he heard a low chuckle. Stopping dead in his tracks, he turned to see the silhouette of a man slightly shorter than him an two brown orbs glowing through the blackness. "How's Johnny Boy?" Came an all too familiar, spine chilling voice.

"Moriarty," Sherlock hissed. "How? You put a shot gun in your mouth, shot a bullet through the back of your head. You blew your brains out." Sherlock was astonished. Not that he let it show, of course.

"This is just delicious, isn't it?" Moriarty purred as he stepped out of the shadows, smirking at Sherlock. "The great consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, not only at a loss for an explanation to how I am alive, but only discovering the information now. Brilliant!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Moriarty. "But how did you survive?"

"The real question is," Moriarty took a step closer to Sherlock. "How did you survive that fall? I watched you jump. How are you standing here, Mr. Holmes?"

"You couldn't have possibly watched me jump," Sherlock shook his head. "You were lying on the rooftop in a pool of blood. There is no possible way you could have watched me jump off of that building."

Moriarty smiled mysteriously. "I have my ways. You should know that better than anyone, Sherlock. You've spent the past two years disarming my world wide web of assassins and psychopaths." He took another step toward Sherlock, only a foot away now.

"You don't seem to mind that," said Sherlock."Of course not, dear." Moriarty took two more strides toward Sherlock. He was mere inches from the detective now. "It's all part of the plan. Now, you're going to be alone tomorrow at 221B Baker Street tomorrow at noon. You're going to make sure sure that you're alone and I'm coming over for some tea and a nice little chat. Do you understand, Sherlock?"

"What happens if I don't make sure I'm alone tomorrow?"

Moriarty took one long stride so that he was standing against Sherlock, lips beside the taller man's ear. "How's Johnny Boy?" He asked for the second time.

"Why do you ask?" Sherlock squinted his eyes.

"Well, you see, if you don't make sure you're alone tomorrow at home at noon, your answer to my question won't matter, because John will . . . Burn." Moriarty's voice was a purr again.

Sherlock didn't respond at first. He took a step away from Moriarty and looked him dead in the eyes. "I'll be alone at noon," he gave a single nod.

"There's a good lad," Moriarty patted Sherlock's cheek. "I'll see you then." And with that, he pushed past the curly haired man and strode away from him, sauntering off.

Sherlock went in the other direction, back toward Baker Street. The following day was going to be . . . Interesting.

* * *

John had to go to work. Sherlock knew that. He considered telling John about what had happened, but he knew that John would take the day out of work and come over if he knew who was coming, and Sherlock didn't want to risk John's safety, so he kept his mouth shut - for once in his life. He didn't have to worry about Mrs. Hudson who was going to have lunch with one of her friends.

So, at noon, Sherlock was sitting in his chair when there came a knock on the door. "It's open," he said clearly.

And in walked Jim Moriarty. "Hello, Sherlock." He greeted somewhat dully.

"Hello," Sherlock replied through clenched teeth. "The tea is in the kitchen. I will go and get it. Please, take a seat." He spoke in a rather robotic voice.

Moriarty took a seat in John's old chair while Sherlock went to the kitchen, then returned with a tray which he placed on the table that sat beside his own chair. He handed a cup of tea to Moriarty and stared at him coldly as the consulting criminal took a long, slow sip. Sherlock watched him and a strange - very strange, in fact - thought occurred to him; Jim Moriarty was an extremely attractive man. His hair was practically jet black like the detective's and perfectly slicked back. His eyes were a brown that sparkled and his Westwood suit fit perfectly to his body. Quickly shaking the thought from his head, Sherlock focused on why Moriarty was there. "Why are you here?" He asked, being his straightforward self as always.

"I wanted to have a chat, dear." Moriarty set his tea cup down on the tray and looked at Sherlock. "I want to know how you faked your death. Because I watched you jump, Sherlock, and you could not have possibly survived by chance. So how did you do it?"

"I could ask you the same," Sherlock crossed his arms. "I stood there as you blew your own brains out. I could also ask how you watched me jump off of the roof while you were lying supposedly dead on the same roof."

"That is classified information, my dear." Moriarty smirked.

Sherlock intertwined his fingers together and let out an in audible sigh. What now? "Is Johnny Boy coming 'round today?" The criminal asked. "I'd love to see him and catch up."

"You are not to speak to him," Sherlock snapped. "Or approach him or have any contact with him in any way. He is not to know you are alive, is that clear?"

"And who put you in charge?" Moriarty chuckled.

Sherlock clenched his jaw. "Stay. Away. From him. I swear to you, if you go anywhere near him - "

"I think somebody has a crush," Moriarty tormented.

"Oh, don't be so ridiculous." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "As if I - of all people - could ever love someone beyond friendship."

"Once you've eliminated the impossible, anything remaining no matter how improbable must be the truth." Moriarty mocked Sherlock. "It's possible for you to love someone, Sherlock. You never know when someone might come along and just sweep you right off of your feet."

Sherlock just stared at him, fighting off the thoughts about the gorgeous eyes. "I don't think so,"

"Well, I do." Moriarty sighed and stood up. "Anyhow, I ought to be off. Nice talking to you, Sherlock. We should do this again sometime."

"What about your tea?" Sherlock said blandly.

"You can have it," Moriarty said shortly, then slammed the door as he left.


	2. Chapter 2

The following morning, Sherlock woke late, showered, dressed, and ate a small breakfast before his phone went off.

Are you busy today? -JW

No. Why? -SH

Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? Mary would like to know. -JW

Dull. -SH

Sherlock! -JW

Very well, I'll come over for dinner. -SH

Okay. I'll see you at 6. -JW

See you then. -SH

Sherlock sighed heavily and set his phone down on the table that stood beside his chair. "Dinner . . . With John and Mary . . . What the hell have I gotten myself into?" But then, Sherlock's mind turned to Moriarty. Jim Moriarty, back from the dead. Though, in all fairness, Sherlock didn't really have any room to talk about people being "back from the dead". But it still bothered him . . . How had he done it? Sherlock only had one plausible explanation; Moriarty wasn't in that roof. It was improbable, but the latter would be that Moriarty survived putting a bully in his mouth and that was impossible . . . Wasn't it?

Then, his phone went off again;

So, dinner with Johnny Boy, eh? How fun. Perhaps I'll drop in. -JM

Don't you dare. -SH

So protective, Sherlock. Are you not capable of trusting anyone? -JM

Shut up. -SH

Well, that's not very nice, now is it? -JM

Shut up. -SH

Perhaps I'll just go pay a little visit to Johnny Boy now. -JM

SHUT THE HELL UP. -SH

How about we meet up today? -JM

No. I'm busy. -SH

No you're not. I checked. -JM

Fine. Where shall we meet? -SH

The café on Baker Street. In an hour. -JM

Very well. -SH

Sherlock rolled his eyes and slipped his phone into his pocket. He didn't want to see Moriarty again, but he knew that if he didn't go, Moriarty would hurt John and maybe Mary. And besides, Sherlock wanted to find out how Moriarty had survived putting a bullet through his head.

He began thinking about Moriarty's gorgeous brown eyes . . . Sherlock quickly shook the though from his head. No. He couldn't think about that. It was a distraction. A weakness.

Sherlock stood as the door opened and in walked Mrs. Hudson. "Hello, Sherlock." She greeted. "How are you? Any plans today? Oh, I am SO busy! I am stressed out. I'm going to tea with a friend again and I have more grocery shopping to do. Ah! Well, I'll be off. Enjoy your day, Sherlock!" And with that, she left as quickly as she had come.

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. "Oh, Mrs. Hudson." He sighed.

He decided to head over to the cafés been though he had another half hour before he had to meet Moriarty. He put in his coat and turned up the collar, he put on his scarf and headed out. In the café, he sat down and ordered a coffee. Then, he waited. And waited. And waited.

Until Moriarty dropped own into the chair across from him. "Hello, Sherlock."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Moriarty. "What do you want?" He snarled. "This cannot be an everyday thing."

"It can if I say so," Moriarty smirked.

"No," Sherlock snapped. "It can't. Tell me what you want."

Moriarty chuckled. "You'll see, Sherlock. Soon enough. You'll see . . . In due time."

"I want to see now," Sherlock slammed his fist down in the table. "And I want to know how you survived shooting yourself through the head."

"You still haven't figured it out yet?" Moriarty sighed and shook his head. "I'm disappointed in you, Sherlock. You're slipping. This should have been an easy one for you."

"Just tell me," Sherlock scowled.

"No," said Moriarty. "I think you need to figure it out for yourself. I can't just tell you how I survived, Sherlock. Now, tell me, what would be the fun in that? No, no, no. You need to figure it out all in your own, my dear."

Sherlock sighed. "What do you want?"

"How did you survive?" Moriarty looked at him quizzically.

Sherlock smirked slightly. "Now, where would the fun be in just telling you?" He asked in a mocking tone.

"Fair enough," Moriarty said in a light voice. "I suppose I ought to be off, then. I thought I'd pay a visit to Johnny Boy . . ."

"Don't you dare!" Sherlock hissed.

"Then tell me." Moriarty snapped.

"Fine, fine!" Sherlock huffed. And so, he explained just how he had survived, just he had done to John and Mary. "Happy now?"

"Very," Moriarty smiled evilly. "Enjoy your night with Johnny and Mary. I'll be seeing you soon, Sherlock. Text you later." And with that he stood and left the café without another word.

* * *

Sherlock collapsed onto the couch in the very dark 221B Baker Street after a long night at dinner with John and Mary. He still hadn't told them about Moriarty. He couldn't. John would freak out and panic and then Mary would panic and all hell would break loose. No, he couldn't tell them. Not yet, anyway.

Sherlock popped up into a sitting position when he heard someone moving around in the flat. "Who's there?" He called. "Mrs. Hudson?"

Someone shuffled toward the couch and Sherlock suddenly wished he had turned in the light.

Then, all of a sudden, someone through Sherlock onto the ground. The put a foot on his back and held him against the wooden flooring as they hound his wrists together tightly with rope, followed by his ankles. Then, the stranger took a thick strip of cloth and stuck it in Sherlock's mouth and tied it behind his head.

"Gah!" He writhed about on the floor and tried to squirm out of the intruder's grasp, flipping himself over onto his back. He huffed.

"Did you miss me?" Moriarty smirked.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock was knelt down a few feet away from Moriarty. His wrists were bleeding from where he had tried to rip his hands out of their binding behind his back. He was sweating terribly.

"Hello, virgin." Moriarty strode forward and knelt down in front of him. "Are you ready to have some fun? Well, it'll be fun for me, anyway." Moriarty spoke to Sherlock as he undid the gag that was in Sherlock's mouth.

"Shut up," Sherlock spoke, breathless.

Moriarty slapped him hard across the face. "Don't speak to me that way," he hissed, grabbing a fistful of Sherlock's curly black hair and pulling the detective's face closer to his own. "You are mine now, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock looked into Moriarty's eyes and blinked slowly. His thoughts betrayed him as he lost himself in Moriarty's absolutely beautiful brown eyes. He breathed slowly and unevenly. "What do you want with me?" Sherlock certainly had a hunch, that was for sure.

"I just want to see how long it takes for Johnny Boy or Mrs. Hudson or that delectable detective inspector Lestrade to realize you're missing and come after you," Moriarty smirked deviously.

Sherlock squirmed and struggled against his restraints, the skin of his wrists raw and bloody. "Just get out," Sherlock snarled, trying to push his thoughts about Moriarty out of his mind.

"I don't think so," Moriarty slowly leaned toward Sherlock pecked him lightly on the lips.

Sherlock did have to admire Moriarty's persistence. And his eyes. Those eyes. And - in all honesty - the two of them were so very much alike. Sherlock closed his eyes. He couldn't think about Moriarty in this way. They were enemies. They could never get along, never mind love each other. And it would never happen both ways. Moriarty would never love him. And he could never love Moriarty. Not truly . . . . . . . . . . Could he? No! No, he could not!

"So, how long do you think it'll take old Johnny Boy to come around and find you like this?" Moriarty asked in a devious tone. "An hour? A day? A week?"

"What about Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock hissed.

"I'll make sure she doesn't come in and find you," Moriarty chuckled.

Sherlock scowled.

* * *

Three days passed and all the while, Sherlock sat in the middle of the floor, tied up and staring at Moriarty. Then, Moriarty did something completely unexpected (and Sherlock expected everything). Moriarty stood from where he sat in the couch, pulled a knife from his pocket, and walked toward Sherlock. He cut the ropes that bound Sherlock away, tucked the knife back into his pocket, and left the flat without another word. Sherlock blinked, and slowly stood. He stared down at his wrists and went to the bathroom to clean and bandage them. Once he was done with that, he searched the flat for his phone and found it on the kitchen counter behind the coffee maker. He found that he had several missed texts from John.

Hello. -JW

Hello? -JW

Sherlock? -JW

Sherlock, are you alright? -JW

Sherlock, answer me. -JW

SHERLOCK. -JW

SHERLOCK. ANSWER ME NOW. -JW

SHERLOCK! -JW

ARE YOU OKAY?! -JW

Sherlock texted him;

Yes, I'm fine. -SH

WHY ARE YOU JUST ANSWERING ME NOW?! I WAS BLOODY WORRIED ABOUT YOU, SHERLOCK! -JW

I'm sorry, John. I have to go. -SH

Is everything alright? -JW

Yes. Everything is fine. -SH


	4. Chapter 4

Busy today? -SH

I thought you'd never ask. -JM

Brilliant. Say, the café on Baker Street? Twenty minutes? -SH

You can say whatever you want. I'm already at your flat. -JM

Sherlock needed to talk to him. Just talk to him and figure out the feelings he was having. Somehow.

Soon, Moriarty was rapping on the door and Sherlock strode across the room, throwing the door open.

"Hello, dear." Moriarty smirked. "I knew you'd call eventually."

"Oh, shut up." Sherlock threw his eyes in a circle, but stepped aside to allow Moriarty in.

Moriarty headed straight for John's chair and took a seat.

"Tea?" Sherlock offered.

"No, thank you." Moriarty turned down Sherlock's offer.

'That's odd,' Sherlock mused to himself as he sat down in his chair. There was doubt in either man's mind that the mood between the two of them had drastically changed sonic their last meeting. Which, of course, was to be expected as the last time they had met, Moriarty was holding Sherlock captive.

"You're trying, Sherlock." Moriarty smirked. "I can see the gears turning in your mind. You're trying to figure something out. But, you can't. What are you trying to figure out?"

"You,"

Moriarty was taken aback. He hadn't even expected an answer. "Come again?"

"I'm trying - " Sherlock stood up swiftly an strode toward Moriarty. " - to figure - " he placed a hand on both arm rests and leaned in so that his face was mere inches from Moriarty's. " - you out."

"Are you now?" Moriarty chucked and tilted his head up to peck Sherlock's nose. "Good luck with that, my dear." To Moriarty's surprise, though, Sherlock gripped his jacket and pulled him to his feet, staring into his eyes. No one but Sherlock Holmes could surprise Jim Moriarty. Which he did...again. Sherlock slammed his lips into Jim's roughly and kissed him. He had to know how it would feel. A spark. That's all it took to light the flame within both of them.

When Sherlock pulled away and Jim looked up at him in shock, Sherlock backed away slowly. But Jim grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back down.


	5. Chapter 5

Less than an hour later, Sherlock and Jim were sitting side by side on the detective's bed, watching the sun set through the window. Neither of them were all too sure of what had just happened in the sitting room, but neither could deny that they had both thoroughly enjoyed it. "What are we, Jim?" Sherlock repeated his question. The consulting criminal shook his head. "I have no idea. Certainly not ordinary, I can tell you that much. But I have no idea beyond that." Sherlock nodded slowly and they both went silent for a few minutes before Sherlock spoke again. "We can't let John find out about this," he stated. "Not about us, not even that you're alive. At least, not yet." "I don't suppose we should let anyone find out," Jim pointed out. "They'll all most likely run and tell Johnny Boy." Sherlock nodded in agreement. "Not Mrs. Hudson, or Lestrade, or Mary, or Molly. No one can know." He said, more to himself than the man sitting beside him. "I can't for the life of me figure out why you continue to hang around Molly," Jim sighed heavily. "She's terribly dull." "She could surprise you," Sherlock smiled ever so slightly. "She's…she's nit exactly what you would expect." Jim eyed Sherlock suspiciously. "You don't find her ordinary?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well, I wouldn't go as far as to say that. I find most everyone ordinary, save you and - as much as I hate to admit it - my brother." Jim snorted. "Your brother isn't all he cracks himself up to be, Sherly." "Try growing up in his shadow," Sherlock sighed. Jim looked over to Sherlock and thought for a few minutes. What was he feeling? All he knew was when Sherlock kissed him, he got an odd feeling. Like something was fluttering around inside of his stomach. Like moths. Or butterflies. GOD DAMNIT, WHAT WAS THIS FEELING?! "Jim?" "Hm?" "I've never loved anyone before," Sherlock mused. "Not like this. I'm not even sure if this is love. This is a completely alien feeling to me." "Love?" "No. Not knowing something." Jim chuckled. *this is a short one... Im sorry :( but I'll get a new chapter up soon. Also, what do you guys think of me writing a johnlock story when I'm done with this one? Oh and could you pleasepleaseplease go check out my new wholock story? It would mean the world to me! :D love you* 


	6. Chapter 6

Jim left the flat barely three minutes before John arrived. Sherlock was aware that this was cutting it close and he made a mental note - storing it in his mind palace, of course - to talk to Jim about how they could be more careful about things such as John arriving home or Mrs. Hudson coming in. "How was your day?" John asked. "Dull," Sherlock lied. "Well, I sure a nice case will come up sooner or later." John replied as if he was only barely listening. "What is it?" "Hm?" "You've got something in your mind and you need to tell me something. Or ask me something, perhaps. What is it?" "Ah, yes." John nodded. "Um - well, you see - well, as you already know, Mary and I are getting married." Sherlock blinked. "Yeeeeess," John licked his lips nervously. "Yes, well, so I am supposed to - I have to find - choose a best man. And - and the best man is supposed to be my - well - my best friend." Sherlock merely blinked again. "What the hell are you getting at, John?" "Sherlock," John sighed. "You are my best friend." Yet again, Sherlock blinked. "What?" "You're my best friend," "Yes, I heard you the first time. What I meant was, WHAT?!" "You're my best - " "Please, don't say it again!" "Sherlock, I can't believe - " "I'm flattered, John, really I am. But I'm also in absolute major shock!" "Why?" "I'm your best friend?" "Yes," "Really?" "Yes!" "John, you really need to get out more." "Bloody hell, Sherlock! Will you do it or not?!" Sherlock considered this for a minute or two before sighing. "Very well!" John grinned. "Really? Great! Right, well I've got to be off. See you soon. Remember, you she to write a speech and the wedding is in a month. See you soon. Bye." And without another word, John was out the door. Sherlock sighed heavily and rested his head in his hands. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" Code red. -SH What? -JM CODE RED. COME QUICK. -SH On my way. -JM Sherlock waited impatiently, tapping his foot, sitting at the kitchen table. There was soon a knock at the door. "It's unlocked!" Sherlock called and Jim entered the flat. "Lock the door behind you. Just in case." "Miss me already?" Jim smirked. "Shut up, this is serious." Sherlock stood and began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. "This is big. This is one of the biggest things I've come across in a long time." "Well, are you going to tell me what it is?" Jim sighed impatiently. Sherlock paused his pacing and looked at the criminal. "John is getting married and he wants me to be his best man. I have to write a speech! And I have to say it in front of people!" Jim blinked. Anyone else would have yelled at Sherlock for calling a code red over such a thing, but Jim Moriarty understood how horrifying giving a sentimental speech to a room full of ordinary people was. "What are you going to do? How are going to get out of this?" "I can't get out of it," Sherlock bit his lip and shook his head. "You could fake your own death again," Jim suggested with another smirk, earning a scowl from Sherlock. "I'm joking, Sherly. Calm down." Sherlock sighed and shook his head again. "This is going to be the most painful month of my life," Jim chuckled. "Why exactly did you call me over here?" "I need help!" Sherlock exclaimed. "You called me for help with writing a sentimental speech for a man whom I have - with all respect, Sherlock - no care for whatsoever?" Jim raised one eyebrow. "Out of all the people on the planet you could have asked for help from with a sentimental speech, you chose me?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll ask someone else." "Who are you going to ask?" Jim asked curiously. "Lestrade, perhaps." Sherlock sunk into his chair with a deep sigh. "Mycroft would have no clue how to go about this. Most likely Lestrade. Maybe I can ask for some extra advice from Mrs. Hudson or Molly." Jim nodded. "Well, I should be going. I'll text you in the morning." And then he was gone, leaving Sherlock alone again to kill over his crazy mess of jumbled up thoughts. The next month was spent writing the speech and working on a violin piece. Sherlock barely solved three cases that month because of everything else going in between best man duties, and helping John and Mary plan the wedding. Life was hectic. No, scratch that. Life was even more hectic than usual. Soon it was the day of the wedding. The ceremony and dinner and dessert passed by in a flash. Sherlock gave his speech after calling Mycroft - at which time Mycroft, like Mrs. Hudson, told him that it was the "end of an era" - and everything was fine. The detective played the piece of music he had written for the newly weds, informed the couple that they were expecting, and he was off. Sherlock did not hail a cab, but instead walked home, trying to clear his head. He walked past the alleyway where he had first discovered that Jim Moriarty was alive and saw two orbs glowing in the dark. He smiled slightly. "Hello, Jim." "Sherlock," Jim emerged from the shadows with a smirk. "How was the ending?" "Dull," Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and the two began walking along the sidewalk not caring at the moment that they could easily be caught. "I assumed," Jim sighed lightly. "I suppose I'll be seeing a lot more of you from now on. The end of an era, eh?" "Why does everyone keep saying that?!" Sherlock huffed. "Because it's true," Jim looked at Sherlock and, if the detective didn't know any better, he would have thought the criminal to almost apologetic and sympathetic. "He's married now, Sherlock. He's got a kid on the way - yes, it's not just obvious to you. John is going to be a family man now. He won't have time to be running around solving murders with you, anymore." "We'll see," Sherlock frowned. Jim chuckled and they spent the rest of the walk to 221B in silence. 


End file.
